


Visionary

by TellTale_Heart



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dream Demon, F/F, Time Travelling Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:23:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22830151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellTale_Heart/pseuds/TellTale_Heart
Summary: Dreams. Series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep. That’s all there was to it, for an average person, a string of images, feelings mixed with thoughts, some rational, some not. That’s all there was to it for Waverly, too, up until one chilly, September dawn.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 12
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Visionary**

  
  


Dreams. Series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep. That’s all there was to it, for an average person, a string of images, feelings mixed with thoughts, some rational, some not. That’s all there was to it for Waverly, too, up until one chilly, September dawn. 

That’s when it all began. 

She was driving home from her job - an underpaid Nurse intern, with dangerously low levels of sleep - in her beaten up Subaru Forester that she inherited from her father she’s never met. Waverly knew the roads, knew every turn, every mailbox of every house on the street. Exhausted, she glanced at the clock on her dashboard. 

_6:15AM._

A strange noise, signalling her dissatisfaction in the form of an “Mhmfp”, escaped her lips. She had to be back at the hospital in 9 hours. Barely enough time to get anything done, other than sleep. A slow blink. Another one. Her fingers grazed the steering wheel in a manner of trying to keep oneself awake and she blinked for the third time. In sync, the digital clock on the dashboard flickered, too, number 5 switched to number 6. 

Then it happened. 

Rapid flashing of the numbers - 6, back to 5, then back to 4. 

_6:14AM._

Waverly frowned, knitting her eyebrows together. _What the hell_? 

A loud scream of “STOP!” made her snap her gaze up to the road ahead. All she saw was a figure, red hair flowing in the air and two arms outstretched in front of their body so as to protect themselves from the oncoming vehicle.

“Oh, my God!” she yelled, simultaneously hitting the brakes, hard. The rear end of the car had slipped halfway off the road as a result, before coming to a shrieking halt. Waverly could see her own breath and a shiver ran up her spine. 

“How..?” It was a decent temperature outside not a minute before, now she was chilled to the bone by icy wind.

“Are you out of your damn mind?!” 

_Uh oh._

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t look-” Waverly met the gaze of a furious redhead, hazel eyes burning with fury. 

“Weren’t looking, yes! That much I can tell!” Interrupting, the woman stepped closer to Waverly’s car and quickly inspected it. “And why is your window down in the middle of January?”

Waverly’s brain went into a frenzy. _January_?

“But it’s only September.” she whispered, mainly to herself.

“W-Waverly?” Her name being whimpered made Waverly refocus on the stranger immediately. The redhead’s lips were trembling, a deer caught in headlights, her skin suddenly white as a ghost.

Familiar.

That was the feeling running through her veins and into her heart. 

Waverly parted her own lips to respond, to ask how she knew her. A thousand voices at once filled her head and she was losing focus, the face of the fiery woman before her getting blurry. She blinked.

_♪”Strange maze, what is this place? I hear voices over my shoulder, nothing’s making sense at all…”♪_

Her radio was blasting a song so loudly her first reaction was to turn it right off with a swift motion of her hand. She kept her fingers on the small button of the radio, the slightly chilly air coming in through the partially rolled down window, playing with her long hair. 

Waverly gaped at the dashboard clock.

_6:16AM_   
  


* * *

“No, you don’t understand, Doc, time was moving _backwards!”_ Waverly, try as she might, could not explain what happened to her properly. It was now afternoon. She hadn’t slept an ounce since she got home, relaying the story several times to Doc already, attempting to get answers from someone wiser than she.

Doc caressed his mustache, looking quizzical and deep in thought. 

“Backwards? As in, you went back in time?” He pointed his question in a way that made Waverly feel like she was being examined to decide whether or not she was a complete nutcase.

“No, I-I don’t know what it was. The surroundings had changed, there was this girl, and it was January!” Her heart was beating outside of her chest as she heaved to get out the words. 

“January?” Doc smiled a little, giving away his true opinion of the matter. “Baby girl, maybe it’s the lack of rest you’re getting.” 

Waverly rolled her eyes, but couldn’t counter his argument.

“You really should take a few days off. Maybe you fell asleep behind the wheel for a few seconds - which, needless to say, is just as scary as your dream.”

Dream. Was it? Was it all just a dream?

“Right.” Waverly sighed and let her arms fall down to hang next to her body hopelessly. 

“Get some sleep, Waverly.” Doc patted her head in a fatherly manner and walked inside the living room, leaving Waverly alone with her thoughts. Easier said than done.

Doc moved in not long after he and Wynonna, her older sister, started dating. He was a bit older than Wynonna, much older than Waverly, and she’ll be the first to admit that Doc somewhat posed involuntarily like a father figure in her life.

Wynonna wasn’t home yet. Waverly really wished she was. A sudden urge of having to talk to her older sister washed over her. She’d know what this is. Would know what to do. 

After the 5th ring, the call disconnected with no answer. 

Great.

There was nothing left to do. She really had to try and get some sleep. 

The clock on the nightstand was mocking her. Holding unbroken eye contact with the harsh green light of the digits, Waverly was adamant to try and make what occurred that morning, happen again.

“Move backwards, dammit!” she cursed, feeling silly. On the verge of giving up, she ran her fingers through her hair and tried recalling the few minutes she spent in...wherever she was. 

The sensation caused by the frosty wind replayed in her memory like she was there once more. Shivering, she shut her eyes tight, breathing out in quick succession. 

Where was she? _Who_ was she in that place? Who was that stranger and how did she know her name?

Waverly’s heart tightened in her chest. She _knew_ her. She must have met her before. Right? That’s how the stranger was able to call her by her name. 

“Waves?” 

Her eyes flipped open. Wynonna was standing in her doorway, looking concerned. 

“Hey.” Waverly whispered, dejected.

“So I heard about your little out of body experience,” she made her way to Waverly’s bed and flopped down. “Was the redhead hot?” Wynonna grinned. Her little sister rolled her eyes.

“It was not an out of body experience, I was very much _in_ my body, thank you. And I didn’t have the time to check her o - why am I even addressing this question?” 

Wynonna took a swing of the water bottle in her hand and shrugged with a playful expression plastered on her face.

That was one of the many reasons Waverly adored her older sister. Could always make any seemingly dooming situation less heavy.

“So?” an eyebrow quirked in her direction, Waverly knew Wynonna’s full attention was at her disposal now.

“So...I think I experienced time travel?” she grimaced at her own words. Frantically, she continued. “No, I-ugh! It’s hard to explain, Wyn, but I was driving, and then everything changed from Mr. Gully’s mailbox to the freakin’ street name I was going down on, and time went backwards and I-”

“Wow, slow down there, cowgirl” Wynonna stroked her hair and offered Waverly her water.

“Thanks” gulping down the entirety of the bottle in one, long swing, she realized she was incredibly thirsty. 

“So, time went backwards. And?” that made Waverly smile. How Wynonna just said that, fully invested in her experience, her story, not concerned with such small details as time, known and accepted to be linear by scientists of the present.

“..and I almost hit someone with my car, but I swerved off the road instead.”

Waverly just now realized she could have killed that person. She was going at a reasonable speed, but still too fast. The impact would definitely not have been a pretty sight. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the mental image, and continued.

“I suddenly felt extremely cold, like I just walked into a freezer. I could see my breath coming out in clouds into the rigid air.” Staring ahead, popping her fingers, Waverly looked lost. “She yelled at me because I almost killed her and then she berated me for having my window down in January.” Here she laughed a little. If anything was comical about all this, it was the woman’s overreacted concern about her window being down. 

Wynonna let out a huff of laughter, too. 

“I like her already. Very observant.”

“She then said my name.”

Wynonna stopped laughing and looked Waverly straight in the eyes.

“Did you know hers?”

“No.”

Both fell silent for a moment.

Both considering what all of this could mean.

“But I felt like I should. I should know her name, I should know _her_.” Waverly said in a confused tone.

Wnyonna looked solemn for a passing second.

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot to figure out for yourself.” Getting off the bed, she glanced back at her little sister once more. “Catch some sleep, baby girl, alright? Maybe some time off work would help, too.” 

Waverly nodded absentmindedly, already off in her own thoughts, feeling the weights of her eyelids crash down. 

_♪“Tried to open up my eyes, I’m hoping for a chance to make it alright…”♪_

All that was visible was a grand piano at the foot of the stairs. An odd place to keep it, Waverly thought, but she didn’t have long to dwell on this. 

“Nicole Haught, you get back here this instant and play!” A tall woman with hard features was standing next to the piano with one hand resting on it, the other holding a long stick of some sort. 

“I don’t _want_ to play!” Came the reply of the child. “I _will not_ play!” Her voice was factual. The older woman grit her teeth and stomped her feet in what was sure to be the direction of which the child went. 

Waverly felt nauseous all of a sudden. She swiftly followed the woman through the living room and up a different set of stairs. She couldn’t keep up and the first sweep of the wooden stick could be heard from one of the many rooms situated in the hallway. The sound ended with a low thud and a cry out loud. Waverly’s stomach churned and she started running towards the room she heard the noises from to stop the madness..

_“Good evening,Toronto! After several rounds of heat this summer, warm weather is predicted to stick around across much of the Northwest this September..”_

Waverly shot out her hand to turn off her alarm, limbs still heavy with sleep. 

Getting on with her routine, she tried removing the bad taste her dream left in her mouth by furiously brushing her teeth, staring herself down in the mirror with bloodshot eyes. She was soon back in the hospital for her night shift.

“You look exceptionally terrible today, babe!” A latina in blue scrubs exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Waverly’s neck while catching up to her.

“Why, thank you, I do try my best.” 

Rosita laughed and it somehow made Waverly feel better, eased the knot in her gut. She was a Registered Nurse in the ICU, Waverly’s preceptor.

“Met our sleeping beauty yet?” Her colleague quipped, steering Waverly towards the end of the hallway, the last room.

Number 614.

They walked in while Rosita listed the regular medicines she needed and provided history on the patient.

“Jane Doe, for now. Poor woman was found on the side of the main road with a pretty rough head trauma, no ID on her, nothing. They brought her in not long after you left this morning and proceeded with the operation right away. Decided to keep her in a coma until the swelling goes down. Patients usually lose respiratory drive, hence the oxygen vent. We need to closely monitor her. Make sure all her other organs get normal blood flow and that she doesn’t get an infection, since we can’t give her any antibiotics - that could be fatal in this case - superbugs and all. Oh, and bed sores, move her around often.”

Waverly nodded with a hum, reading through the patient’s file while Rosita gave her the quick rundown of everything detailed on it. Looking up, she saw the woman laying unconsciously on the bed, with an IV hooked up, slowly dripping the anesthetic. 

Rosita was right. Jane Doe was a sight for sore eyes, though most of her head and half her face was covered in bandage, her features still popped. 

Rosita’s pager went off, startling both of them out of their reverie of looking at the sleeping patient. 

“Gotta run, can you handle her bandages? Need replacing.” Rosita was already half-way out the door while asking the question. “She’ll be your responsibility tonight, take care of her, Waves! Page me if you need anything!”

“Will do,” Waverly said to no one in particular. Her colleague’s running footsteps echoed outside the room, in the hallway. Rosita trusted her tremendously, and it showed. Waverly extended her internship at the Trauma ICU, just so she can be mentored by Rosita longer.

Waverly busied herself with getting fresh bed sheets out of the nearby closet while recollecting the details of her dream. The child, the piano, the beating. There was a name, too. The woman with the stick addressed the child…

“What was it…?” Waverly was thinking out loud, having difficulty remembering. Something with an ‘H’. Was it? She turned with the clean sheets folded up in her arms and placed it in the chair next to the bed.

“Haught!” She exclaimed, loud and victorious. The heart rate monitor started beeping deafeningly and Waverly’s attention snapped back at the patient. Her heart rate picked up. Waverly instinctively grabbed the hand of Jane Doe and stroked what she hoped were relaxing circles on her skin to soothe her. 

“It’s okay. You’ll be okay.” She chanted, like a prayer falling from her lips. It was heartbreaking to see someone in such a state. So helpless. Lost in a world of their own mind. 

Waverly wondered what that might feel like. To be shut off from reality. She contemplated the options. Some said that people in a coma lived through the experience stuck in constant dreams. 

Or one long, consequent dream? 

The heart rate monitor regained its earlier speed. Waverly smiled. Regardless of having been operated on and being in a harsh environment, the woman’s hand was soft. 

“Hi.” She greeted her patient, barely above a whisper. “My name is Waverly. Waverly Earp. I’ll be looking after you.”

With a squeeze of a hand, she stepped away from Jane Doe and grabbed the change of sheets she prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment, it keeps a bitch going 
> 
> also, talk to me on tumblr telltale-heart8.tumblr.com (:


	2. Chapter 2

**Visionary**

  
  


Once Waverly was done with changing the sheets - tough job to do alone, by the way - she proceeded to redo Jane Doe’s head wrap. Slowly, she started removing it, revealing gradually more and more of the patient’s face. 

It was tricky to get the procedure right, but she was up for the challenge. Carefully, she removed the bandage completely, revealing the damage, a partially shaved scalp and stitches.

Waverly looked at her in awe.

“What happened to you...?” Waverly wondered aloud, dabbing gently away at the scar to clean it. “Well...no matter what, we’ll fix you right up, okay?” She tried to sound cheery, she really did. Only, she didn’t actually know whether Jane Doe would be fixed so easily. The heart rate monitor let out a single, loud beep and a short pause then continued on with no further interruptions. Waverly had a feeling Jane Doe was reacting to her.

Even though her sole responsibility for the night was caring for Jane Doe, Waverly was exhausted by the end of her shift. 

If you asked someone about Waverly Earp, they’d tell you she was extremely kind hearted and always gave her entire body and soul to the cause. Medical care was no different, she gave all she could give in the 12 hours she spent by her comatose patient. Room cleaned out so entirely that you could eat off the floor, should you wish to. Not giving a chance to infections. She brought fresh flowers and before she left, opened the blinds to let the sun shine through the squeaky clean windows she made sure to scrub sometime between repositioning her patient regularly, adding pillows to relieve pressure on the bony points of her body and administering her medicine. 

She also made certain to talk to her.

It was coma communication 101: ‘Always assume the patient can hear you.’

Near the end of her shift, she sat next to Jane Doe and released a long, sleepy sigh. 

“Well, that’s it from me today. I hope I didn’t bore you too much with my homemade pancake recipes.” Waverly giggled. The heart monitor beeped at a regular, normal speed. “Okay, Miss Doe. I’ll see you tomorrow!” She pointed a finger at her patient with a playful smile accompanying her words. “And you better be on your best behavior while I’m gone! Don’t go catching infections, okay?”

Waverly sighed, dropping her hand. The harsh reality of her comatose friend not being here by the time she starts her next shift was too real.

“Keep fighting.” She whispered, before leaving the room, allowing another nurse to take over.

* * *

“I’m off, Rosie” she waved an arm in the direction of the Nurse’s station and Rosita reciprocated the action with a cheery smile. 

“Did our sleeping beauty give you any trouble, Waves?” 

“She was no problem at all, actually enjoyed being able to focus on a single patient for a change. Gives you a chance to connect.” Waverly beamed.

“Right.” One of the other nurses snorted humorlessly and added; “You be careful with getting emotionally involved, makes the job more difficult, if worst comes to worst. You catch my drift.” 

Words she really didn’t need to hear at that moment. Almost instinctively, Waverly opened her mouth to object, too tired to take any of this shit from anyone today, but Rosita placed the pen she was holding neatly on the top of the paperwork she was working on and stepped in between them. She placed both her hands on Waverly’s shoulders, eyes searching, voice gentle.

“Thank you for your work today, Waverly. Take tomorrow off, get some proper sleep.”

Waverly was also sick and tired of people telling her to rest, though she knew they were right and meant well. She had less than two hours of sleep in the past thirty-five. 

“But what about Jane Doe?” 

“I’ll be taking care of her while you’re gone.” Rosita smiled and gave a reassuring squeeze to her shoulders before returning to her mountain of papers.

Outside the building she walked swiftly to her Forester. She was adamant to really catch up on sleep this time, though her thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute about everything that happened the past few days. Maybe she was, indeed, getting delirious.

Girl who didn’t want to play the piano, time moving backwards and strangers uttering her name - forgotten. She got in her car.

Turns out, after that many hours spent awake, it’s enough to get into a sitting position. Waverly relaxed into her car seat and could feel herself dozing off, her hand on the ignition. 

_♪“_ _I heard everything you said, I don't wanna lose my head…”♪_

Waverly almost pulled a muscle with how hastily she averted her eyes, gaze falling upon the radio in her car. She never turned the key in the ignition, yet the stereo was blasting. 

The next thing she noticed was the cold.

“No way.” she exhaled shakily.

She exited her car, snow all around her and a dooming dark sky up above. The misty air engulfed Waverly, fog allowing for only a limited amount of visibility.

A quick examination of the watch on her wrist told her it was 6:14AM. As she walked on, the town sign of Port Hope revealed itself on the side of the road. 

Port Hope turned out to be a ghost town. Nobody was around, doors of nearby buildings left open creaking in the hollow wind. It was honestly eerie and Waverly had trouble calming her beating heart in her chest.

The sound of a gun being cocked really didn’t help. She froze in her tracks and felt the barrel being pressed against the back of her head.

“Turn around slowly, hands behind your head.” The commanding voice was familiar. Croaky, almost rough, but familiar.

Waverly flung her arms up and stuttered. “Listen, I...I don’t know how I got here. I’m lost. Not a threat.” She hoped this would convince the person behind her to lower the weapon aimed right at her. 

“Is this another trick?!” the stranger shouted, so loud that Waverly felt the urge to press her hands to her ears. It sounded like an angered, desperate plea. 

She didn’t know whether or not she should respond. It sounded like the question wasn’t exactly meant for her.

“Fuck,” the profanity was hopelessly mumbled from behind her back. Waverly felt the pressure lessen from where the barrel made contact, indicating the gun was lowered and wasn’t pointed at her anymore. 

Waverly timidly turned around. 

It was her. 

“It’s you,” Waverly’s voice was barely above a whisper, staring at the woman before her.

It took a moment for the stranger in front of her to register her words, but once she did, the redhead was in her face in the blink of an eye, gripping at Waverly’s shirt and pushing her backwards forcefully. Waverly shut her eyes, not used to sheer energy being used against her in such a manner.

“How do you know me? Who are you?” 

“I’m sorry, I-,” Waverly’s back hit something solid. They reached the wall of a building. “Please don’t hurt me.” she whimpered, panic-stricken, voice audibly full of fear. 

Their faces were inches away, both breathing hard, not blinking. 

If this was a dream, Waverly wanted to wake up.

She was pleading with her eyes while in return the other woman seemed to be searching for something in hers. 

The redhead was looking all over the intruder’s face, trying to make sense of her thoughts.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise for just a moment. 

Gently letting go, she started backing away, as if registering something. Waverly felt examined, her soul getting dissected by this person she’s now met twice in this unexplainable realm.

But the look of realization vanished from the redhead’s face just as quickly as it came and was replaced by confusion once more. She shook her head in an attempt to bring back the memory she’d just had a second ago, but no such luck. It was gone. 

“I apologize.” 

Waverly was taken aback by the change in tone, this time almost silent, soft. 

She finally had the chance to really assess the person in front of her. Definitely taller than Waverly, combat boots strapped to her feet, navy blue bomber jacket zipped only up to her chest. Features hardened. Across her face a deep cut that didn’t heal properly. She was still beautiful, Waverly thought. In the fierceness of the cold she almost looked primal. Hungry. For what? She didn’t know.

At least the fog cleared up a bit.

“Where am I exactly?” Waverly managed to croak out, adamant on not showing how their previous interaction affected her.

The other woman shrugged absentmindedly, something on the snow-covered ground catching her attention. She scrunched up her nose in disgust. 

They are here.

“Don’t you remember--“ Waverly was caught off guard once again as she was grabbed by the hand and pulled into one of the abandoned buildings.

“What the hell?!” Waverly squealed in surprise.

A palm was pressed firmly on her lips.

“Quiet.” the redhead mouthed with a stern expression.

Waverly, regardless of the stress, oddness and seriousness of the situation, felt something flutter in her stomach at the closeness.

She nodded and kept silent while the woman removed her gloved hand from over her mouth and placed it on her gun attached to the hip.

45 seconds passed since she was left alone in this possibly lethal place. Waverly knew. She counted. Agonizing seconds with the unbearable feeling of _not knowing._ The redhead walked back briskly after precisely 60 seconds. Fresh blood covered her clothes.

“They sensed your fear.” She stated, offering no further explanation, wiping off her hands. “Usually only hunt in the dark, but I guess your fear was strong enough to lure them out.” 

“ _They_...?” Waverly’s mind was racing and she felt sick. Suddenly the room was spinning.

“Don’t worry, they’re taken care of. For now, anyway.” Waverly’s ears started ringing at the stranger’s words.

What _was_ this place? She felt dizzy. She wanted to wake up. Her vision became blurry and her feet unsteady. Before she could hit the ground, arms encapsulated her lithe form. Frustration pumped enough blood into her brain for one final question before passing out;

“What’s your name?”

The last word ringing in Waverly’s mind before slipping out of consciousness was _‘Nicole'._  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> talk to me on tumblr telltale-heart8.tumblr.com (: comments, kudos, bookmarks are highly appreciated! thanks my dudes. see you on chapter 3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It took me forever to get this chapter out, but I hope to be forgiven, considering the apocalypse that's been knocking on our doors. I hope this chapter can take you guys away a bit from that, I know writing it helped me stay off the news for a few hours and, even if only briefly, calmed my anxiety. Let's all put on our Waverly-goggles and see through her experiences what our favourite redhead has been up to.

**Visionary**

Uncertainty. Noun. Refers to epistemic situations involving imperfect or unknown information. 

If there was a way for Waverly to go behind the scenes, or fly high up above the story of her own life so she could get a proper overview of all the things that are connected, maybe she could better understand herself. Piecing the puzzle together has been tiring and she barely had enough energy left after her soul sucking shifts to deal with her own memories. 

Perhaps the reason she put all her energy into her work was an obvious one to an outsider, but she decided to pretend the long hours were not for the sake of forgetting. Forgetting what? 

The constant verbal abuse. The name-calling. Being the black sheep. Never being good enough. The latter definitely made her an overachiever, but she had bigger problems to deal with than her perfectionism - which, to be fair, always led nowhere and she could never in her life do anything flawlessly. She did okay. And she hated herself for it.

The bigger problem was a tiny, nagging feeling in her gut. Something consistently seemed to be....missing. The issue was, she had no idea what.

* * *

Waverly was quite literally honked back to consciousness, back from the unexplainable realm. Someone tried backing out of their parking space and her vehicle seemed to be in the way.

Pulled back from that dark place she couldn’t comprehend, Waverly started her car with a trembling hand and drove as quickly as she could to the bar Wynonna owned. 

Shorty’s was, as per usual, half filled with day drinkers. Waverly, ignoring a few whistles as she entered, speed walked to her sister behind the bar.

“I need to talk to you, Wyn” 

“Hold that thought,” Wynonna slid a mug in front of her little sister and dramatically filled it with steaming water, adding in a theatrical voice “Your  _ tisane _ , ma’am.” 

“I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve you!” Waverly beamed and nursed the mug closer.

“Probably something bad.” Wynonna winked and continued with polishing the glasses. “Spill.” 

Waverly recounted the events, not leaving a second up to imagination.

“Waves...you’re not going to like what I’m about to say,”

Typical. Just when she needed a pair of understanding ears the most, her older sister would start preaching about not getting enough rest.

“You might be visiting an actual person in an actual…well, fuck, in their personal purgatory.” 

Waverly’s jaw dropped. Definitely not what she expected to hear coming out of her sister’s mouth. 

Wynonna waved a hand in front of Waverly’s face. “Ya still there, baby girl?”

“What the heck does that even mean?” Waverly asked in a high-pitched voice, not even trying to hide her panic.

“Get me and me buddies ‘notha round!” Came the interruption from a man in one of the corners of the bar and a few others banged their hands on the table in agreement.

“It’s 9 in the morning.” Waverly deadpanned.

“I’m sorry, Waves, gonna have to postpone our conversation about a demon-filled-purgatory-world-of-a-hot-and-possibly-lethal-redhead-“ here she took a deep breath “-until I finish today. Get some sleep until then, for the love of all that’s unholy, I mean it.”

And Waverly did. 

She didn’t quite remember getting home, but she was in her bed and it honestly felt like heaven. A plan was made to write all her experiences so far down in her dream journal, but all was forgotten as she dozed off.

* * *

“You treat your sword as if it had a soul, because it does.”

“Yes, Papa” 

“Now, take your katana and follow my movements. This cut is called the yokogiri - in other words, a horizontal cut.

The older man placed the sword with its dull edge against his left shoulder and cut the air horizontally, creating a tiny, whistling sound. 

Waverly was on the outside, looking in. Staring through a dirty, open window, she inspected the two people in the home-made dojo. One of them she recognised despite the age difference. It was the redhead she’s dreamed of before. It was the stranger she’s met in the unexplainable realm. 

Nicole.

“But Papa… how can a sword have a soul?” Little Nicole asked, eyes wondrously wide, nervously gripping a replica of a sword made from wood.

At this the old man snickered.

“Listen here, kiddo,” kneeling down so he was at eye-level with Nicole, he continued “the Samurai were very keen on tradition and spirituality. They believed that their sword was an embodiment of their selflessness, loyalty, bravery...all at once. So they treated the sword accordingly. Named them, even.” 

Little Nicole smiled.

“Can I name mine?” 

“Yes, of course. In time. Now focus.” 

The child nodded, copying the previous movements in a swift and elegant manner with a serious expression plastered on her face. 

Waverly caught herself smiling as well, a tidal wave of warmth washing over her.

But the scene changed as quickly as a channel being flipped and a slightly older version of Nicole was kneeling on the floor right in front of her, face contorted in pain.

“Get up. Fight!” A man in dark clothes was towering over her. “It’s not in you, I knew it..” His foot connected with the woman’s side, full force, like kicking a football mercilessly. Waverly shrieked in panic, trying to move, but she found herself to be paralized in her spot, a few feet away from where Nicole was laying. Spitting on the ground next to a writhing redhead, the man lowered his head to be level with Nicole’s on the ground and continued.

“Your grandaddy was just as weak as you are. Pathetic.” 

Nicole elbowed the man’s throat and he stumbled back.

“Don’t you dare talk about my grandfather, you slimy son of a bitch.” Nicole’s words were menacing, said through gritted teeth. She mockingly spat on the ground, too, saliva mixed with blood. 

The man let out a strange mixture of a laugh and a cough, massaging his throat.

“Do you know...why..” slowly he regained his voice. “..we killed him? And your parents? Everyone you loved? Everyone who’s loved, hell, known you?!” 

Nicole’s lips trembled slightly but she didn’t let her feelings show. Closing both eyes, she listened silently to an answer that was sure to follow. Waverly did a double-take at the redhead’s face, but before she could linger, the man laughed again, this time loud and clear.

“You know what they say, Nicole Haught. A lonely wolf is a hungry wolf. Standing alone will eat away at your soul until nothing remains, but hopelessness.”  _ Haught?  _ Waverly’s brain went into overdrive trying to remember where she heard this name before.

Nicole used the time he was facing away lecturing her to retrieve her sword.

“Nobody says that,” She made a swift, horizontal cut. “Oh and, since we’re having survival study 101,” the man dropped to his knees, bleeding heavily from the neck. Waverly gasped in shock. “A lone wolf tends to be stronger, more aggressive and far more dangerous.” 

Nicole shook the blood off from her sword with a quick motion and elegantly placed it back to its sheathe. 

Waverly’s heart was beating out of her chest, banging so loudly she feared even the dead could hear it. And Nicole seemed to be staring right at her. For a moment Waverly thought the other woman could see her, but that was soon confirmed to be untrue as the redhead walked through her like she was nothing but air.

Waverly decided to follow her. If this was a dream, she couldn’t get hurt. Right?

The first thing she noticed was that her limbs were finally working again, she could move, as opposed to a few minutes ago when she tried to intervene in the beating Nicole was receiving. Well, before she so gracefully executed her opponent, anyway. 

The dialogue between the two gave Waverly the impression they had some sort of history. A history of a murder spree involving the entirety of the redhead’s family. Waverly’s heart contracted with an intense wave of sadness for a faltering moment, surprising her to a complete halt, before she regained her composure.  _ What the hell?  _

Once Nicole was in her sight again, she was holding her sword once more, this time with both of her arms outstretched in front of her, bowing to it and murmuring under her breath.

Waverly stopped and listened as closely as she could, holding her breath. 

“Arigato gozaimasu.” The redhead whispered, before strapping the sword to the left side of her hips. Then she bowed again, Waverly following her line of sight - a photo of the same old man who she’d seen in the first dream practicing with Nicole. 

“I will avenge you, Papa. Whatever it takes.”

Waverly’s vision became blurry as she was once again transported to another piece of dream. She was getting nauseous from all this new information. Why did it feel like she was completely conscious? Waverly remembered falling asleep. Remembered the blissful feeling of her sheets engulfing her body, her soft pillow connecting with her cheeks as she dozed off. But she felt awake. Wide awake. Experiencing everything so damn vividly.

There she was again, on the outside looking in. This time, she started walking straight away, to get as close to the figures standing in the room as she could. It was Nicole and another woman. The redhead seemingly pleading with the other one. 

“I can’t do this with you anymore, Nicole. I...this is...just, not normal. I want a normal life.”

“I can give you that. Shae...please.” Waverly felt something deep in her gut, something extremely uncomfortable at the scene that was unfolding before her eyes.

Nicole was facing away from her, talking to the brunette woman who seemed to be on edge, visibly wanting to leave, feet pointing at the front door of the apartment.

“No, Nicole. You can’t. You’re everything  _ but  _ normal.” With this, the brunette grabbed the doorknob and left without a glance back at the redhead. 

Waverly chanced a brief look at Nicole, now standing face to face with her. Again she was gazing at a slightly older version of her, red hair cut shorter, ending just below the ears. 

Nicole closed her eyes for long seconds, maybe even more than a minute, not breathing in or out, staying absolutely still. Waverly studied her face and it suddenly clicked. 

_ Jane Doe.  _

Nicole Haught was the patient in her care. The redhead she’s met in the realm and of whom she’s been having these vivid dreams was lying unconsciously in the hospital room.

Waverly heard her own voice trying to articulate words, but she wasn’t making any sense and Nicole turned away from her, slowly getting blurry. Then nothing. Pitch blackness. 

Waverly woke up in her bed panting and drenched in sweat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> talk to me on tumblr - telltale-heart8.tumblr.com / no, really, i mean it, hit me up, let's have an end-of-the-world party in our pajamas with pizza hanging out of our mouths. see you there


End file.
